


Love Hurts

by sleepwithacommunist



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Injury, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Smut, Unconsciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22354168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepwithacommunist/pseuds/sleepwithacommunist
Summary: While you fuss with his wounds, you can feel his gaze on you. You’re not sure how, but you’re always able to tell when Mando’s staring at you and trying to figure you out.He’s on the verge of passing out again; you can tell because each breath of his sounds like a pained wheeze and his head keeps falling forward before he pulls it back sharply.“Stay with me, Mando. Talk to me. What happened?”You hear him whisper some words, almost as if he is talking to himself. It’s hard to understand what he’s saying, but you continue working on stopping the bleeding. He mumbles some more and you freeze when you clearly hear him murmur, “Beautiful.”
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Comments: 28
Kudos: 355





	1. Hurting

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr: @sleepwithacommunist

It’s been months since the Mandalorian hired you to take care of the child. But in all that time, you have never seen him as wounded as he is right now.

Slumped on the floor of the Razor Crest, he looks lifeless; which terrifies you more than when you saw him collapse on the ground after he opened the ramp to the ship.

Now you’re assessing all the damage while he’s laying on the floor; you don’t have the strength needed to lug his body up on the cot. Your hands press on his chest. You need to get the beskar off him but you have no idea if that would even be okay.

“Mando, can you hear me?” You call his name frantically, getting more worried with each second that he doesn’t speak or move.

The only thing that stops you from having a panic attack is the soft sound of a wheeze coming from his helmet. Other than the occasional sound of choked breathing, he doesn’t respond.

“Kriff,” you mutter and decide to take off his beskar so that you can reach his wounds. _I’m sure his creed doesn’t say anything about me seeing his chest_ , you think as you pull away his armor and clothes.

Luckily, you can tell from the scorch marks littering his beskar that he wasn’t hit in the head. Instead, he was passed out from the extreme amount of blood loss coming from some odd-shaped wound to his chest.

It looks like a giant blade sliced through him right between his armor. As you nervously try your best to patch it up, you realize it must have been inflicted by someone _very_ skilled and precise.

You try calling out to him again as you sterilize the wound and apply a coat of bacta spray over it. Heart pounding, you jump from the sound of him groaning your name softly.

“Yes! Yes, I’m here!” You lean forward so that you can hear his croaky voice through the helmet better. “Mando, you’ve been hurt badly. I– I thought you were dead,” you confess, your words whispered in horror at the thought of him not surviving whatever fight he’s been in.

Muttering your name again, he tries to sit up a little. At first, you help him lean against the wall, but then you notice the blood dripping from his wound again.

“Wait, wait! Stop moving, you’re bleeding again!” You hastily grab the bacta spray and apply more.

While you fuss with his wounds, you can feel his gaze on you. You’re not sure how, but you’re always able to tell when Mando’s staring at you and trying to figure you out.

He’s on the verge of passing out again; you can tell because each breath of his sounds like a pained wheeze and his head keeps falling forward before he pulls it back sharply.

“Stay with me, Mando. Talk to me. What happened?”

You hear him whisper some words, almost as if he is talking to himself. It’s hard to understand what he’s saying, but you continue working on stopping the bleeding. He mumbles some more and you freeze when you clearly hear him murmur, “Beautiful.”

Looking up at him, you struggle to decide if you should say anything. It’s times like these that you curse how his covered face makes him incredibly hard to read. Meanwhile, the blush on your cheeks shows how flustered his comment makes you.

“Uh, what was that?” You ask softly, hoping he hasn’t passed out again.

He doesn’t move at all, but you hear him repeat, “You’re beautiful.”

Brushing off his words, you fumble with the nearby medpack and continue dressing the gash on his chest. His hand cautiously reaches towards your arm and brushes against your skin. Raising your brow, you wonder what’s changed to make him act so vulnerable all of a sudden.

A few seconds pass while you stare into the horizontal slit of his visor, wishing you could see his eyes right now. He gruffly mutters your name, anguish clearly laced in his voice. You weren’t sure if it was the pain making him sound like that or… something else.

Silence stretched between you before he whispered, “I love you.”

The breath was stolen from your lungs. He had said it so softly, but you heard every word in the eerie silence of the Crest.

“Mando… you don’t know what you’re saying right now.”

“No, I know what I’m saying. I love you and I need you to know that,” he sounds desperate, something you never thought you’d say about the Mandalorian.

You aren’t able to answer him, feeling your heart constrict from how needy he sounds. He whimpers your name, his helmet making his voice sound hopelessly broken.

“I love you. Tell me I’m not crazy for thinking you love me too…”

You shake your head, bittersweet tears filling your eyes. “I love you, Mando. I have for a long time, but… you’re not gonna remember this when you wake up.”

You watch his head tilt with bated breath, hating how you can never tell what those little movements he makes really mean.

“I don’t know what’s more painful. This wound,” he gestures to the oozing cut in his chest, “or what I feel for you. I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again…” His words sound strangled and you _know_ what he’s trying to say.

He sighs before his head flops back against the wall with a soft ‘ _thunk_ ’. You’ve finally gotten the bleeding to stop and you watch his chest rise and fall slowly– _he is still alive_ , you think in relief as you exhale shakily.

Your heart aches thinking about how one day, he might not make it back to you alive. The thought makes your tears fall steadily. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you wipe away the hot tears and reach out to gently stroke the hard lines of his helmet.

Heartbroken, you try to reconcile that the man you love will never truly be yours. You knew from the moment you fell in love with him that it would come at a cost, but it’s the kind of cost that you would pay again and again.

With puffy, red eyes and a tremble in your voice, you whisper to him, knowing he can’t hear you anymore. “I love you, no matter how much it may hurt.”


	2. Healing

You watch his motionless body for what feels like hours before you finally muster up the strength to lift him onto his cot. With less beskar weighing him down, it’s an easier task than when you pulled him into the ship.

Checking his breathing again, you sigh in relief at the fact that he is still alive. Distracting yourself from your emotions, you clean up the mess of blood and medpack supplies scattered on the floor.

Once finished, you return to the Mandalorian and take off the remaining pieces of beskar and set them aside, leaving his helmet on, of course. For a moment, you admire his sleeping body, but then your sadness returns when you think about the conversation you had with him a few hours ago.

Sighing, you leave to check on the child waiting for you in the cockpit. Climbing up the ladder, you’re pleasantly surprised to see him sleeping in his crib; normally he’d be messing with the ship’s controls by now.

You peek your head into the opening of his crib. Content with his soft snores and cute resting face, you sit down in one of the seats with an exhausted groan.

After the panic you felt seeing Mando injured and hearing his pained confession, you can feel your tired body already succumbing to sleep. Before you know it, your eyelids droop and you’re fast asleep.

~

Sounds of the child cooing beside you wake you up instantly. Opening your eyes, you frown and squint from the bright light of hyperspace surrounding the ship. Blinking rapidly, your vision clears and you see Mando sitting in front of you, piloting the ship.

He wordlessly presses buttons and keeps his back to you. Your head turns towards the babbling child and you’re relieved to see that he isn’t crying or calling out for either of you.

“You should be resting,” you croak, breaking the silence.

Clearing your throat, you wonder how long you’ve been passed out in the cockpit before Mando woke up and started the ship. Your eyes rake down his body and you notice he’s wearing all of his armor again, looking like he hadn’t almost died a few hours ago.

He doesn’t respond, and you gulp as the memory of the conversation you had with him comes rushing back. You watch him fiddle with the ship’s controls and wonder if he even remembers telling you that he loves you.

“How’s the pain?” You’re genuinely concerned about him but you also just desperately need to hear his voice. You need to know that you didn’t imagine everything that happened.

“I’ll be fine.” To anyone else, he’s as stoic as he always is, but you can hear a twinge of pain in his voice.

Sighing, you get out of your seat and step closer to him. “Come on, let me check your wounds. I’m assuming I’ve been asleep for a while.”

He tilts his head up at you and you swear you can hear the smirk in his voice when he retorts, “You were snoring.”

You gasp and playfully swat his beskar-covered chest. “I was tired after taking care of your dumb ass.” Turning around, you walk out of the cockpit, expecting him to follow.

As you climb down the ladder and get the medpack, you bite your lip and try to fight your smile. _He made a joke; that’s good news, right?_

You hear his heavy footsteps and see him take a seat on his cot out of the corner of your eye. Turning towards him with the med supplies in your hand, you watch him struggle to remove his armor without flinching in pain.

Raising your eyebrows, you try not to laugh at how stubborn he is. With a groan, he stops moving his arms and waits for you to help him without saying anything.

“I thought you were fine,” you tease him before putting the supplies down and working on taking off some of the beskar.

Blushing, you slowly lift his shirt up so that you can check his wound. Your hand falters when you press it against his chest. You know that you had seen his tan skin earlier, but this time feels different. Maybe it’s because he’s not bleeding out or unconscious.

You can feel his eyes on you, so you gulp and try to steady your hands as you clean the wound and spray more bacta on it. The entire time, you avoid looking up at his helmet. Even if that means staring at his lean torso and the trail of hair that leads down to his pants.

Shaking yourself out of your wandering thoughts, you realize your hand has been resting on his chest for far too long. You hastily pull away, but Mando grabs your hand before it can go too far and he hesitantly puts it back on his chest.

Your mouth goes dry and you risk a look up at his visor, unsure why he wants to be this vulnerable around you.

“I didn’t forget.” His voice crackles through the modulator and makes your pulse quicken.

A part of you knows what he’s talking about but you need to make sure, so you play dumb. “What?”

His hand doesn’t leave yours and you breathe heavily when his thumb rubs your wrist reassuringly. He can see through your act and both of you know it.

His voice softens, “You said I wouldn’t remember.”

You stare blankly at his gloved hand wrapped around yours. With his other hand, he tilts your head up to look at him.

Feeling his thumb rub a small circle on your chin, you exhale slowly before asking, “Did you mean it? Or were you just caught up in the moment?”

“You really think I would say that if I didn’t mean it?”

You think about it for a moment before shaking your head. “No, I guess not.” Gaining some confidence now, you nuzzle your face into his hand and whisper, “Well I meant it too. I love you, Mando.”

You wish you could kiss him, but you respect him enough not to ask him to take off his helmet. So instead, you place a small kiss on his gloved hand to show him that you really do care about him.

He freezes and you can hear his breath hitch softly. At first, you think you’ve gone too far and should have asked before kissing him. But then you feel his thumb brush across your lips as if he’s silently begging you to do it again.

Placing more tiny kisses on his hand, you hear him sigh softly and you can see his body relax. He wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you closer to his body. He rests his head on your shoulder as you show him the affection he has not received since he was a child.

He holds you tight, not wanting to ever let you go, but you gently nudge his shoulder and push him back to lay on the cot. He groans softly from the pain of the movement but you help him adjust his body so that his feet aren’t dangling off the edge.

Crawling on top of him carefully, you do your best not to rest too much weight on his injured body. With your hands and knees on either side of his hips, you hold yourself up and lean down to kiss his chest gently through the fabric of his clothes.

Soft gasps can be heard through his helmet, but he stays still and lets you do whatever you want to his body. You know he’d stop you if you go too far, so you continue peppering kisses down his body until you reach his pants.

Hesitantly, you snake your hand inside the band of his pants. Your hand falters when he grunts and grabs ahold of your hips, but he nods and urges you to keep going.

Your mouth opens slightly when you feel his hot length in your palm. Your breath comes out in short puffs, getting turned on from how responsive he is to the slightest touch.

His dick hardens as you experiment with different touches and strokes, learning what makes the Mandalorian squirm beneath you. Before you know it, his cock is straining against his tight pants and he’s bucking his hips up as much as his injury will allow him to.

“Hey, take it easy. We don’t need your wound to open.” You gently push his chest down so that he’s laying still on the cot.

“I need you,” he groans and it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth as he speaks. His hands grip your waist a little tighter, betraying how desperate he is.

Nodding your head, you lift your body off of him for a moment so that you can pull his pants down. Frantically, you take your own clothes off before holding the base of his cock with one hand and hovering over him.

You look at him questioningly, making sure he’s alright with where this is going. He nods once and rubs your thighs reassuringly.

You slide the head of his cock up and down your entrance, mixing his arousal with yours. After a few swipes, you slowly sink down on his length, letting him fill you inch by inch.

A low groan is filtered through his helmet, and you can feel his hands tensing around your hips once you take him all the way inside your pussy. With your eyes shut tight, you have to remind yourself not to press a hand down on his chest.

“Mando,” you sigh and gyrate your hips. You place your hands on either side of his body for leverage, moving your hips back and forth while your head is thrown back in pleasure.

Low sounds of ecstasy leave his helmet, and your name is mixed with unintelligible words from a language you don’t know. Among the nonsense that leaves his lips, you hear a word that catches your attention: Din.

“What?” You pant and continue riding his cock, your movements gaining speed now.

“My name,” he moans. “My name is Din.”

For a second, you stop grinding, looking down to stare into his visor; you wish you could see his face.

“Din,” you whisper, testing the way his name sounds on your tongue.

Rocking your hips again, you feel his body shudder when you continue whispering his name. Chuckling, you mutter, “Now I finally know the name of the man I love.”

“Tell me again,” he pleads, his body shaking slightly.

“I love you, Din.” You whisper it over and over, feeling his body practically vibrate beneath you as you bounce faster on his cock.

His hands fall down to his side and he lets you bring him closer and closer to his orgasm. He moans your name, wishing he could kiss your skin or control the pace, but he promises himself to save that for when he’s fully healed.

Din ruts his hips against yours, his grunts signalling that he’s right on the edge. You grab the sheets and alternate between grinding and bouncing on his cock, your movements becoming sloppy.

Gasping his name, your body tenses and you cum around him, getting lost in the intense pleasure. His orgasm quickly follows and you hear your name cut through the static of his modulator.

Both of you pant and catch your breath, taking the time to caress each other’s bodies. You carefully lift your body, pulling his dick out of your pussy and feeling his cum drip out of you.

Din looks exhausted, and you chuckle before pulling his shirt aside to check that his wound didn’t open up again. Satisfied with the sealed injury, you kiss his chest and lay down beside him.

You snuggle up beside him and rest your hand on his bicep. “Does it still hurt, Din?”

He’s silent for a moment, and you wonder if maybe he’s fallen asleep. Then his modulator crackles and he vaguely responds, “I’ll be fine. Love heals everything. Isn’t that what they say?”

Smiling, you nuzzle into his side and close your eyes, no longer worrying about the hurt that might come with loving a Mandalorian.


End file.
